


Brain Damage

by Agib



Series: Febuwhump 2020 [11]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brain Damage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Head Injury, Out of Character, Poor Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agib/pseuds/Agib
Summary: Peter's been acting different lately, and Tony thinks he knows why. But the problem is, he doesn't know how orifhe can fix it.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Febuwhump 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619311
Comments: 3
Kudos: 96





	Brain Damage

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so wild times, probably not medically accurate, quite angsty, minor resolution but still low key sad.

“What in the hell were you thinking?”

“I was _thinking_ I could go out and have fun like a normal teenager!”

“At a bar, in Brooklyn? Really?!” Tony sighs, halting his pacing for a moment to rub his temples aggressively. “You didn’t even take the suit with you. How were you planning on getting home, huh?” Peter looks away, diverting his eye contact which, up until this point, had been persistent.

“I would’ve been fine. I’m not a child. I can take care of myself,” the boy says petulantly.

“Not when you’re drunk off your face,” Tony points out bitterly.

“It lasted forty minutes! I can’t even get drunk right,” he growls. Tony stares, half amazed and half angered beyond belief.

“So, you were _aiming_ to get drunk then?” Tony sits himself across from the kid, frowning at him as he continues to refuse eye contact.

“What other reason would I have had going to a club?” Peter snaps. “I thought you were supposed to be a genius.” Tony narrows his eyes.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re acting like a spoiled brat, Peter.” He blatantly ignored the exaggerated eye-roll the kid gives him. “This isn’t like you,” Tony says.

“You don’t know me,” Peter replies sharply. His face is twisted into a scowl and it makes him look years older. Like some two-bit college student who thinks he’s better than everyone else.

“I know you well enough to tell that you’re playing at something here. Acting out for a reason,” he accuses. Because what other reason would the kid have to start acting out now?’

“No, you don’t. You barely know me!” Peter shouts, Tony bites the inside of his lip, worrying at it as the boy stands from the couch, he had been slumped in. “You’re a glorified trainer. All you do is make sure Spider-Man isn’t doing anything to mess with your brand, and _that’s it_.”

Tony balks, leaning forward in his chair with his mouth open.

“Don’t speak to me like that. Sit your ass back down so we can talk about this.” Despite himself and the stubborn anger racing through his every fibre, Tony forces himself to soften when he next speaks. “We’re going to talk this out.”

Peter practically snarls, shoving the bottle of water Tony had told him to drink, to the floor.

“You’re not my father,” he spits.

And _shit_ , that stings more than Tony would like to admit. He shuts his mouth again, grinding his teeth together as Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m going home,” he states simply, wanting no room for the older man to argue.

The door slams behind him, the entire pane of glass wobbles in protest as Tony sighs again.

Tony had absolutely no clue what had gotten into the kid. He had always been polite, easy-going but with an outspoken, energetic energy to him. Now suddenly, he was acting and speaking like an easily angered, self-absorbed teenager who found no enthusiasm in anything he used to.

“F.R.I?” He asks tiredly. “Keep an eye on the street camera’s, make sure he actually gets home safely please.”

“Of course, boss.”

\----

“Hey sweetie,” May greeted from the couch.

“Hey,” Peter answered. His voice was stiff and unwilling, it didn’t carry the usual _I’m glad to be home and relax_ tone.

“Everything alright?” She sat up on the couch, brushing her hands over her pants and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she yawned. Peter gave a shrug in reply, opening the fridge and pouring himself a glass of juice. “Thinking Thai for dinner,” May suggested.

“I don’t know,” Peter mumbled after downing the glass. “I kinda just feel like going to bed.” He spoke in monotone; his posture was slack, and he was clearly not himself right now.

“Okay, you do that then. I’ll check in before I leave tomorrow morning, sleep well.” She made a grabby motion with her hands and Peter blearily wandered into the sitting area to accept his aunt’s embrace unenthusiastically.

“Night May.” He closed his eyes when May pushed back his hair from his face and patted his cheek gently.

“Cheer up, it’s a long weekend.” He made an affirmative sound that he had acknowledged her and pulled back from the hug to drag himself down the hall and into his room without another word. He just looked so tired and worn down. May worried for him.

\----

_Four weeks earlier there had been an incident, it had seemed more serious than what is had been, but the feeling of unknowing still made Tony’s gut churn uncomfortably._

_Karen had updated him. He had gotten the message about ten minutes after it was sent, after he left the venue of his meeting. A blunt trauma force had spiked in the kid’s suit, and movement as well as vitals had dipped into quiet since the hit._

_The kid looked physically fine and dandy when Tony landed at his side on a rooftop in central Queens. There was no blood, no scratches. For a moment, he figured the kid was taking a quick nap break._

_Karen and F.R.I.D.A.Y were both monitoring his vitals. His heartbeat was slightly slow, blood pressure fine, nothing too unusual aside from the lazy heartbeats and lack of brain activity._

_He’d scooped the kid up, dropped him off at the tower’s Med Bay and waited patiently for the diagnosis._

_Medically induced coma to prevent swelling in the brain hadn’t been a card Tony expected the doctors to play. In fact, the option hadn’t even been on the metaphorical table as far as he was concerned._

_If there was any worry, it was minor in comparison to what would have been terrifying if he didn’t have the best doctors in the damn country._

_But it was still scary to see Pete swaddled up with wires and monitors and yet still lacking any visible wounds._

_The doctors explained the situation as best they could to May and Tony. It had made sense, slightly, there was little worry in regard to memory loss although it was a possibility, but the swelling was the main issue. Once it had gone down, and the doctors had sorted the kid out, they pulled him out of the coma, and everything was fine minus the migraines the kid had for the first week or so._

_But now he was acting out, being impulsive, putting himself in danger and acting like a brat to top it all off._

_First, Tony wondered if this was a morality and the idea of death based issue. Near-death experiences tended to screw around with people’s perception of life and its fragility, but that only accounted for the reckless behaviour. It didn’t explain why Peter had suddenly become an absolute little shit._

_He was still loveable, would always be, but the kid had never managed to irritate Tony so much in his life before now._

_Going out, drinking and doing dangerous shit for no good reason was beginning to give him grey hairs, and he couldn’t help but feel like grounding the kid despite the fact that “_ you’re not my father _” was still ringing through his skull._

In summation, this was how Tony found himself researching the phenomenology of personality change due to traumatic brain injury in adolescents.

\----

Despite the outburst, Peter continued to train, learn, and work alongside Tony. Once or twice a week every week, plus every time Tony ended up bringing him back to the tower for the night after some more than minor bumps and bruises on patrol.

“You want a cup? Or maybe a hot chocolate?” Tony asked, flicking the coffee machine on for himself and washing his metal remnant stained hands.

“This is what I mean, I’m not a kid. I don’t need marshmallows and hot chocolate every time I take a hit on patrol.” Tony turned, raising an eyebrow and opening his mouth before shutting it again. Peter found himself frowning at the older man, waiting for a response.

“Fair enough, let me know if you want a drink or anything though,” he said evenly. _Doesn’t appreciate the fine art of hot chocolates on a cold night anymore,_ Tony silently noted to himself. Peter blinked, his frown taking a brief hike before settling back down on his features as he huffed.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

\----

“I hate steak,” Peter grit. “It’s chewy and a waste of money,” he pointed out sharply. Tony put the plate down, thinking hard.

“You want to pick dinner for next week then?” He asked, no anger in his tone as Peter looked across at the plate petulantly.

“Yeah,” he muttered. Tony managed a smile, nodding carefully.

“Besides,” he began. “Not like wasting money is much of an issue for me,” he joked.

Peter’s face stayed blank, he nodded once, curtly, before poking at the steak in front of him.

“Thanks anyway,” he says quietly. “For feeding me I guess.”

_There he was. That’s the kid I know._

In all honesty, it was tough. Peter was different now. He wasn’t as carefree, and he was quicker to anger. Tony knew that majority of the time, it was better to be as plain and supportive as possible, outweighing the negativity with positive alternatives, avoid pointing out the differences in the kid at all costs. Never mention how he used to never say or do things as he does them now. Let comments mean to hurt roll off his back and instead help the kid as best he could.

Eventually, most things faded. Peter was less self-involved, more evenly tempered, slightly less quick to anger, found more enjoyment in things. There were times Tony wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him back and forth until he recognised how little he thought about actions he made, or things he said. But that was to be expected.

More of the kid flashed through the fissures as the time stretched on. Eventually he laughed as easily as before. He still had bad days, but at least there were good days, the months following the injury had ben day after day or rude, snippy attitude and a lack of interest in everything around him.

He had come back to himself in most senses. But Tony couldn’t deny the fact that the kid was still the same _kid_ as he’d always been. He hugged May tighter now, didn’t flinch or startle when Tony was affectionate with his words or actions, didn’t ever repeat that sentence meant to jab and tear.

_You’re not my father._

He was a good kid, always would be. On good days, he initiated jokes, laughed of his own volition, carefree and enjoyable. He still frowned more than Tony had ever seen, but he softened more often. Understanding the issue had helped, knowing what to say and do had lessened the outbursts.

When all was said and done, Peter _was_ still Peter, sure he had a couple extra quirks, but it didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact that Tony still cared about the kid.

**Author's Note:**

> Give @spidersonangst @febufluff-whump (on Tumblr) all the credit, the only reason this is happening this month is because of them!


End file.
